


Doctor Who and the Mojo Thief

by Snowgrouse



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Crack, F/M, Humour, M/M, Multi, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-06
Updated: 2008-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-27 01:46:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowgrouse/pseuds/Snowgrouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Someone</i> has stolen the Doctor's ability to timegasm. Crack. Sex comedy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor Who and the Mojo Thief

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://sizeofthatthing.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://sizeofthatthing.livejournal.com/)**sizeofthatthing**. The prompt was "Three/Delgado, orgasm denial", but it turned into something a bit more complicated than that (and unfortunately, went cracky as well as porny). The title is a pisstake of Target novelisations. No Chris Achilleos illustrations... yet.

This week hadn't been very good for the Doctor. To be fair, the dematerialisation circuit had shown signs of limited functionality, there had been no alien invasions to thwart and the Brigadier had been positively mellow. All of this would've been perfectly fine, if he hadn't realised he had developed a rather, well, embarrassing problem.

He of all people, a Lord of sodding Time who could pull anyone he wanted just by waggling his eyebrows and who gave screaming orgasms to sentient plastic chairs just by sitting on them, had lost his ability to come.

Oh, he'd tried. Alone in his bedroom, up against the console, down Bessie's exhaust pi--well, he'd rather not dwell on that one--and in company. Jo, as always, had been very sympathetic, and with teary-eyed determination, had delivered him one of the best blowjobs this side of Ursa Prime. It's not like he hadn't enjoyed it (her tears were probably a result of his full length and girth, he surmised), on the contrary. He'd felt like his balls were going to burst, Jo's saliva dripping down them, her gagging and his hands full of her hair, magnificent--and there, voomph, where a thoroughly satisfying orgasm should've occurred, *nothing happened*. Like a switch had been flicked in his nervous system, turning off all the important bits just at the crucial moment.

Jo, never one to give up when it came to important matters such as this, decided that variety was what the Doctor needed--a bit of adventure, he liked those, didn't he? So it came to pass that the following day, in the relaxed atmosphere of the Grant residence (and after quite a few spliffs and bloody endless Jefferson Airplane records), the Doctor found himself being done up the arse by Mike Yates while Jo writhed underneath him in ecstasy. Oh yes. This was more like it, just like the good old days with Jamie and Zoe--why, he could feel himself dripping every time Mike rammed in! He was already seeing stars, tumbling headlong towards orgasm when *snap*--that *thing* happened again: his jolly todger went completely numb and he collapsed over Jo, sobbing in frustration. As if to add insult to injury, Jo was too busy coming to notice.

Things had been a bit quiet after that. The Doctor locked himself up in the TARDIS, wandering the corridors, immersing himself in Buddhist philosophy to take his mind off his blue balls and generally, sulked like a bitch.

It was times like this when he would've welcomed even the company of--and right on cue, a familiar (yet appropriately sinister) VWORP VWORP resounded in the console room. The Doctor didn't even bother turning around, pretending to be busy with the controls.

"What is it you want this time? If you've come to gloat..."

"Why, Doctor, do you think there is something I *should* be gloating about?" the Master smirked, running a gloved finger up the Doctor's back, pausing to doodle a limp cock in the velvet.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure you're about to tell me all about it, in great detail," the Doctor grumbled. He turned around, leaning back on the console, arranging himself carefully to minimise pressure on his aching knackers. "World domination, power on an unimaginable scale, unlimited Cuban cigars..."

The Master tutted. "You wound me, Doctor." He laid his hand over the Doctor's chest, thumb stroking the frills of his shirt. "Am I not allowed to make purely... social visits from time to time?" He stared deep into the Doctor's eyes, mock-innocent. "Really. Is this the way to treat your old school chum?"

"...you're trying to hypnotise me."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are. Stop it."

"I am *not* trying to hypnotise you." The Master lifted his hand to the Doctor's temple. "I am merely taking a peek--"

The Doctor grabbed the Master's wrist, but before he could pull the offending hand down, the Master *nudged* something in his mind and the Doctor fell back on his arse, gasping, trying to grab the console for balance.

"What the blazes was *that*?"

The Master squatted down beside the Doctor, grinning. "Just as I thought. A psychophysical neurotransmitter knot."

"Used for keeping people docile," the Doctor spat. "I should've known. This has your name written all over it."

"Come, now, just because I devoted one third of my thesis to neurochemical control methods--"

"--it makes you the only one qualified to 'treat' me as well, yes, yes." The Doctor nodded wearily, pushing himself up on his hands. "If you think that for one moment that I will just let you waltz into my head and kill me that way--"

"Nothing could be further from my mind, Doctor." The Master straddled the Doctor's thighs, pushing him down with one hand on his chest, one on his temple again. "Let me show you."

The Doctor's eyes fluttered shut. "Oh, for f-- *oh.*" Instead of the murderous assault he expected, he was being delivered a montage of their youthful escapades: skiving off to Paradise Islands and kissing, stumbling and splashing in the shallow water. Days spent sucking and fucking, the click of old-fashioned Earth handcuffs snapping shut, the whistle of a cane before it hit bare flesh, and that day at the lab with the long-necked oil bottle... bloody hell. Trust the Master to have a greatest hits compilation handy.

"Yes, *that's* the sort of social visit I had in mind." The Master leaned in and chuckled against the Doctor's neck, all beard and tongue and teeth. "Now, Doctor. Do you want me to untie that knot?"

"Mngh."

"As you wish. Trousers first, mind. Ah. There." The Master licked his lips and ran his hand across the Doctor's cock, from root to tip. "You see, Doctor... this time, my motivation is simple and honest--" he reached down and squeezed the Doctor's balls--"*greed*."

The Doctor's moan of pain was stopped by the Master's mouth on his, the Master's tongue curling against his as he slid his mind deeper inside the Doctor's.

//Now, where is it? Really, Doctor, it's like a labyrinth in here.//

//What would you know about labyrinths? You haven't had to fight off a bleeding Minotaur in one.//

//Now that you remind me, no--I was rather busy seducing the Queen at the time. Shall I tell you about it?//

//This is really not the time--//

//Ah, Galleia. She rode me all *night*, and those precious oils she used, you should've seen her body glistening in the lamplight, oh--//

//*Stop* it.//

//This'll help me find your pleasure centres and undo the knot. Honest. The more aroused you get, the easier it is for me to--ah, that's it--//

//Hurry up.//

//I'm sorry, I was thinking about her breasts, heavy and slippery in my hands when I played Zeus to her Ganymede--//

//Typical. You're practically sitting on my cock and all you can think about is breasts.//

//Sodomy, actually. Just one more tug and the knot will come loose, this won't hurt a bit--//

It bloody well did. The Doctor swore out loud, grabbing the Master's hair, thunking his own head on the console room floor. The Master took this as his cue to grab the Doctor's cock with a light grip, running the palm of his gloved hand across the head. The Doctor's nostrils flared at the smell of leather and precome, and he reached up to nip the Master's lower lip, groaning into his mouth. The Master continued to stroke the Doctor's cock, licking the roof of the Doctor's mouth.

//Now, Doctor. As I was saying, greed is my main motivation here. You see, I most certainly want you to have a satisfying sex life. I have nothing against that. What I do object to is your obsession with humans and their limited capacity for bringing and receiving pleasure--//

//So you only shagged the Queen to spite me?//

//That's beside the point.//

//No, it isn't.//

//It is. *This* is what matters.// The Master delivered a sharp mental lick at the Doctor's pleasure centres, pinching and stirring them into wakefulness. Maintaining the connection, he took his other hand off the Doctor's temple, spat on his fingers and and slipped them between the Doctor's legs. The Doctor let out a low, guttural groan as the Master pushed one finger inside, the friction of the leather almost too painful but just right, perfect, and the Master hadn't forgotten what he liked--

//See, Doctor, I *want* you to come. //

The Master moved his hand faster on the Doctor's cock and pushed his finger in deeper, the Doctor writhing and bucking and he was finally going to--oh bloody hell--his eyes snapped open, the Master's gaze holding his as the Master *curled* his finger, his breath moist on the Doctor's face--

"I want you to come for *me*."

The Doctor let out a stream of obscenities in half a dozen languages, clawing at the Master's chest, the floor, coming all over the Master's hand, spurting again and again, thick rivulets of white over black leather, all over his shirt, the Master's jacket, even hitting his chin. His eyes were probably crossed but he didn't care, the Master's soft laughter and the scrape of his beard against his ear making him shiver in delightful aftershocks.

When the Doctor came to, it was to the realisation that the Master had undone his own trousers and was, to put it bluntly, humping his thigh. He raised his hand to the Master's cheek, grinning like a bastard.

"That looks painful. I think you should see a Doctor about it."

The Master groaned. "If I'd remembered how *insufferable* you were during sex--"

The Doctor shrugged. "Well. Fair's fair. Did I tell you about that time I had Liz Shaw in a haystack? You should have seen her breasts, small and pert in my hands..."

"Aaaaargh!"


End file.
